Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Uruguay and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Sugar Minott to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Hashim,
Wasted Youth,
Robert Wyatt,
Absolute Body Control,
Supertramp,
X-Ray Spex,
Circle Jerks,
Chrome,
The Gun Club,
The Fuzztones,
B.T. Express,
Outsiders,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Barry Ungar,
Nico,
Intrusion,
The Residents,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
KRS-One,
The Smoke,
E-Dancer,
Roxy Music,
D'Angelo,
The Angels of Light,
Stiv Bators,
John Holt,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pulsallama,
Pylon,
Mad Mike,
This Heat,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ossler,
X-102,
Boogie Down Productions,
Junior Murvin,
kango's stein massive,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Music Machine,
Danielle Patucci,
F. McDonald,
Harmonia,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Cosmic Jokers,
James White and The Blacks,
Eddi Front,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Birthday Party,
Nik Kershaw,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Aural Exciters,
Bob Dylan,
Slick Rick,
Maurizio,
Tubeway Army,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Symarip,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.